The Marksman
by ThatAnnoyingGuy
Summary: Raised far from the elemental nations an odd soldier named Taras reaches them for the first time with his bounty hunting partner and a pair of criminals to start a new life as the Runner Mercenary Company. The fight for money becomes the fight for survival as many come after their heads due to the potential destabilization of the precarious balance of power in the hidden villages.
1. Prologue: The escape

Prologue: Rescue

Taras slowly crept through the bleak metal halls of the prison, shotgun in hand, looking for the correct cell. The weight of the massive fourteen point five millimeter rifle on his back was more of a comfort than a burden after all of his years with it and the soft sound of the fabric of his fatigues rubbing against both itself and his body armor soothed his frayed nerves. He had broken into and out of prisons before but never one so heavily patrolled by such a large number of those trained in the use of their own, and detection of other people's source, and the energy in produced. He continued through the stark gray halls peering through the small slots on the doors before finding his objective.

"Vera can you hear me," He called quietly into the cell.

"Taras," he heard in week reply, "Is that you. You have to get me out of here. They did something to my head, I can't think strait. Please."

After hearing the response Taras quickly got to work on picking the lock, while occasionally muttering a few consoling words. Unfortunately opening the lock signaled the end to the luck that took him this far. The second he had the door open he heard the almost nonexistent footsteps of the warriors that patrolled the halls. In no time at all he had Vera slung over his shoulder with one of the many layered runic sets on his arm glowing. Energy began crackling around him as he felt the colossal drain. By the time the black clad warriors with the bone white armor reached the room it was empty, save for the scorch marks.

Taras and his burden reappeared in a nondescript alleyway that he recognized well. Smiling wearily he began slowly plodding the rest of his way to his destination. The few people that were still out this time of night gave him a few worried looks but he disarmed them with a small grin and a wave. Reaching the small bar that was his destination he quickly opened the door with several people turning their heads to look at him before promptly passing out in exhaustion.


	2. Chapter 1: A Job

Chapter 1: A Job

Taras sat on the rooftop of the old bar they had recently purchased. They had been in this small island nation for about a week setting up shop after alienating many sources of income from their home continent back east. The journey was long and boring due to the old model of ship that the merchant they had contracted passage from used to avoid drawing attention. His blue eyes where unusually grim as he stared into a disturbance taking place near center of town.

"What do you see?" a feminine voice said crackling out of his radio.

He quickly hit the activation switch on the old aviator headset. "I'm not sure," he responded, "but something in my gut tells me it's bad news."

"Fine I'll take Alohalani and check it out. You should go grab your rifle and provide overwatch."

Taras reached up to scratch the shaggy blond hair poking out from the brown patrol hat he had under his headset. "Come on Vera, you and Al get all the fun."

"Get better at fighting in close quarters and we'll talk, until then grab you damn rifle. If anyone needs to be dead I expect then to have a seven point six two millimeter hole in their head before my gun clears the holster."

"Sure thing hard-ass," he grumbled out while climbing down from the roof.

"I heard that!"

"That's cause I transmitted it." He wisecracked before muting his radio.

In ten minutes he was back on the roof but looking through a high-powered scope instead of a pair of binoculars. He watched with anticipation as Vera and Alohalani approached the center of the crowd. The crowd itself had opened up to show a small man with two towering body guards at the center. A small smirk warped the scarred left side of his face as he began to listen to the conversation being transmitted by his comrade's radio. As he listened to the radio he reached up to scratched the three light lines across the right side of his face, a habit he picked up after the ones that mirrored them on the other side were burned off.

"What's going on here?" he heard Vera's authoritative voice call out through the radio.

"Who the hell are you?" he heard a sniveling voice call out. He guessed it was small man in the center.

"I recently moved into town with my comrades, now answer my question."

"Well since you're new in town let me lay down the law," the other voice said. Taras could practically hear the sneer on his face. "My name is Gato. I run nearly all shipping into and out of this island, and that means that I own this town the people and since you live here, I own YOU."

Taras was already lining up the shots when the order came through the radio. "Taras vynʹte okhrannikov."

"S udovolʹstviyem," he quickly transmitted, reverting to his native tongue. Two quick applications pressure on the trigger and he could almost hear the small man's reaction without needing a radio.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST DO?"

"Listen hear you kakashka. You are not the top dog you think you are. You are completely at my mercy, and I think I will ask if the people gathered here would like me to repaint the road with your blood."

Taras could barely make out the Gato's pleas for mercy over the roar of the crowd. He watched through his scope as in an instant Vera's nine millimeter pistol was out and had put four bullets into to his chest. He fell, face locked in a frozen scream as blood slowly drained out of his body, and suddenly the once roaring crowd was silent.

He watched as an old gray haired man stepped forward before his voice echoed through the still active radio. "He's really gone just like that."

"Just like that." She responded. His smirk exploded into a full blown grin as he watched a wistful smile grace Vera's face.

Before Taras could hear any response a loud alarm started blaring in his ear.

"What hit me," Taras asked himself as he shook the dream from his head, memories of the prison break filtering through his mind as he stood up. Shambling over to a dresser he grabbed some supplies before heading to the bathroom.

Dropping his stuff on the floor he looked at himself in the mirror. He rubbed his hand along his jawline feeling the stubble built up around his chin. His hand stopped as he reached the scar that covered a large portion of the left side of his face. He idly thought back to the grenade that caused it as he traced a few of pieces of shrapnel still embedded in his jaw and cheek from having the bone heal over it. The doctor said he was lucky that he still had full use of his left eye. The only aspect he didn't like about the scar is that he missed the three lines that traced the left side of his face in mirror to the three on the right.

He took a step back to examine the instruments of his escape, the the various rune patterns that twisted themselves down his left arm. Many people had called the blocky style of their design inelegant and almost chaotic, but when he looked at his creations, built on the knowledge of his adoptive family, he could see an order and beauty in what they could accomplish, and in how they were layered and crafted. The only rune on his body that he felt was off putting the radial one centered around his navel. The design while being distinctly human had an alien feel to it as if it were created by something inhuman of great power. He could almost hear the great spirit that dwelled within rattling against its cage from within the construct.

He quickly shook his head to get himself out of the his introspective mindset that he fell into every time he awoke after completing something truly exhausting, and entered the shower. The shower was short, warm and relaxing he thought as he reluctantly cut off the flow of water and stepped out of the shower before pulling on the clothes he had brought with him. A simple grey t-shirt the pants from a pair of autumn camouflage military fatigues and his old worn black leather combat boots with requisite socks. After getting clean and dressed he went down to the bar on the first floor that he and his comrades ran as a side business to mercenary and bounty hunting work.

As he entered the large room he heard an older raspy voice call out, "So you finally return to the land of the living."

Taras looked over to the prematurely gray thirty year old ex con with a scathing look before heading back into the kitchen to make some breakfast. When he got there a familiar female figure was already in front of one of the fry grill.

"You can't cook," where the first words out of Taras' mouth as he saw Vera cooking eggs and assorted meats.

"Yes I can," she replied slightly insulted turning around to look at him, "and shouldn't you be out there waiting for breakfast."

"With the comedian?"

"So now Al owes me thirty ryo," she almost laughed out.

"I don't like you making bets about me and Fredrick. Now move."

"Why?" Vera asked almost insulted and her fellow mercenary's demeanor in the morning.

Instead of giving her a response he moved forward knocking her out from in front of the grill and pilling all the food onto various plates Vera had placed out previously.

"Your infamous concentration at work again," she said reluctantly, slightly embarrassed by forgetting about the food in favor of the conversation. "You saved breakfast and me so that puts the score at twenty-eight fifteen, in favor of me."

Taras gave a noncommittal grunt as he grabbed a plate of food and a roll out of one of the bags littering the kitchen, before strutting out back into the main room. Setting his stuff down at the end of the bar he grabbed a homemade bottle of Vodka and began to tear into his food.

"You sure you should be drinking this early in the morning?" the raspy voice from earlier asked.

Taras barely paused long enough to growl out "Shut up Fredrick" before returning to his meal.

"Fine, eat, you're no fun when you're like this. Once Alohalani gets back though, we need to head out." At the questioning glance he continued. "We got a VIP mission request thought because of what happened to you and Vera we weren't able to respond. Now that your back we can go and politely check on the offer in person, even if someone else has already filled it."

-()—

The small band of mercenaries arrived at the Daimyo's palace at dusk after an eight hour journey on foot. An attendant let them in and informed them that the Daimyo was currently meeting with someone but would be informed of their arrival and would meet at his discretion. The attendant returned almost immediately looking highly embarrassed as he told them that they would be seen directly.

Taras entered first, wearing a set of dark grey military fatigues. He had left his hat and headset but his radio was still attached to his belt along with his nine millimeter sidearm. The others were wearing the same in a show of professionalism that they rarely displayed to anyone but their most important clients.

"Fukui dono," Taras said respectfully inclining his head mouth stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar suffix, before the rest of the group gave their own greetings.

"So the Members of the Runner Mercenary Company have finally graced me with their presence." The man said in a Joking tone.

Before any of the group could respond a redheaded woman interrupted. "I don't see why you disturbed our meeting for this, I could have taken them all out by now," Came her irate voice.

"Uzumaki san, you will be patient. These fine soldiers did me a service in the past and I will give them a fair hearing just like I have given everyone else. If something happened to delay them from responding to my initial summons then I will give them leniency. The job isn't scheduled for another month anyway." Fukui said letting lose some of his temper.

"Excuse me," Fredrick said stepping forward, "but we are still not sure what the job is."

"Ah my apologies," the Daimyo said returning his attention to the mercenaries. "The job is to escort a representative of mine to observe the coming Chunin Exam Final taking place in Konohagakure in the coming month."

"We would happily accept your offer."

"If I may interject," the redhead said still with anger in her voice. "These four no very little about shinobi, and they don't know the area. I would be a much better choice."

The Daimyo sighed before responding, "Kushina chan, your clan where friends of my family before their destruction so I will hire you on as a consultant. Will that satisfy you?"

"Yes but I still do not know why they are necessary. They aren't even shinobi."

"Kushina, you are whining, and you," he said turning back to the mercenaries, "will provide the expert shinobi consultation I am paying for with housing up to and for the duration of the mission. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir," Taras said having to hold himself back from saluting, the leader of the small island nations command reminding him of one of his old commanding officers.

"Good, as it is getting late I offer you all my guest rooms for the night."

"We would be honored," Kushina and Fredrick said at nearly the same time.

==()==

I thank you for reading the first true installment of my fic. The premise is how would a group of soldiers with slightly better than Vietnam era tech fair in the world of shinobi. Please hold your questions for a few more chapters as the rest of the world I am crafting is flushed out.

I do not own Naruto

Russian translations-done with Google translate

vynʹte okhrannikov-take out the guards

s udovolʹstviyem-with pleasure


End file.
